


For The Money

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Probably. Have you got a goat?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For the Money

_ **For The Money (Allan/Guy) NC-17** _

Title: For The Money  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Allan/Guy  
Rating: NC 17.   
Word Count: 1600  
Summary: "Probably. Have you got a goat?"  
Notes/Warnings: READ THE WARNINGS Somewhat twisted explicit slash porn, with strong language. That's all that can be said of it, really.  
Feedback greedily seized upon.

 

Allan was on his knees and in trouble. His left arm twisted around his back, hand flat on the grass, keeping him something resembling upright. The other hand splayed through rough hair, brushing against the base of a hard cock, pushing away with all his not inconsiderable strength. He could feel the strain in his shoulder, back and neck muscles. It wasn't doing much good.

Another pair of hands were locked around the back of his head, twisting his hair, pulling his head forward quarter inch by quarter inch onto the hard flesh jerking into his mouth. It hit the back of his throat and he gagged, unconsciously letting up on the resistance. A bark of satisfaction from above him as the cock slid an inch further in. Allan was retching over and over, fighting for breath that he couldn't draw, hot tears of desperation in his eyes.

"Choke, damn you." The voice was low and malevolent. "Treacherous peasant shit. Choke and fucking well die. On your fucking knees. " Allan was flailing his arms desperatly, acid vomit in his mouth making breathing even more impossible. He was going to die, Gods; he retched uncontrollably, uselessly, as Gisborne's cock pounded the back of his throat, faster now.

"Scum. Sodding scum. Fucking. Hell." The last as ejaculate joined the sour vomit clogging Allan's throat. Hands held his head in place for a moment, then pushed him backwards. He fell sideways, turned his head and threw up, gasping between mouthfuls. Then he lay still, curled up naked on the grass, heaving for breath.

Aftr a few minutes Allan dragged himself to his feet and went looking for his waterskin, his eyes on the grass. For the first time he became conscious of his own erection, of the sharp ache. It would have to wait until the other man had left. Until after he'd been paid. He rinsed his mouth out several times, still able to taste sour wine and the odd taste of another man's come.

"Get over here," the voice directed. Allan thought for a second of refusing, but the time for that had long since passed. He should have said no when, their normal business concluded, Guy had pulled out a second purse from his doublet and offered Allan what seemed like the easiest, if least pleasant, money he'd ever made. He should have known something was wrong then, but he'd been mesmerised by the silver. Now he was naked, sick and the bastard hadn't paid him yet. Allan walked reluctantly back to the now decently laced soldier.

Guy's black-gloved hand on his chest pushed his back to a tree. Allan's hands were spread over the bark, waiting. His cock hurt. He avoided looking directly at dark, scornful eyes.

"You liked that, then. Perverted little beast." Guy flicked a hand over Allan's erection and he suppressed a gasp. "No!"

"Liar." Leather clad fingers around his aching balls. Allan closed his eyes. If the man intended to jerk him off he wasn't complaining, not right now. The hand moved away. Fucking tease.

"Can you keep still?" Gisborne sounded curious. Allan nodded.

"An inch and you'll regret it." Gisborne dropped to his knees and Allan took a breath. A warm tongue ran up his cock, down the other side, and he fought for composure. Round the head and engulfing it, half way down. Gisborne. Bloody Guy of Gisborne, sucking his cock. The strangeness of having a man there barely noticed in the strangeness of having that man there. He'd always thought the man had a soft spot for him, but this...

Guy's teeth closed painfully. Allan swore, twitched. The air was cold as Gisborne rose smoothly to his feet. "You moved." He was watching Allan's face, amused.

Fuck. "Gods, please. It hurts!"

"I'm sure it does." Gisborne intercepted the hand moving downwards. "You should learn to do what you're told. Turn round."

Allan turned round, his thoughts all with the unbearable ache in his groin. Leather twitched round his wrists and he protested uselessly. Guy swung him back round by the shoulder.

"Now." he said, thoughtfully. Dark eyes watched Allan. "What would you do for relief?" He sounded good humoured now.

"Anything. Any bloody thing, OK?"

"I doubt that." Guy ran the lightest of gloved fingers up his cock and Allan swore. "Any fucking thing you like. Please."

"My cock up your arse?" Allan nodded. "My fist? My sword hilt?" Allan nodded again, eyes shifting away. "Your cock up mine?" That sounded bloody good to Allan at the moment. "How about your tongue?" He shuddered. "Hell, no. Do we have to do this?"

Gisborne smiled. "Just establishing a few parameters. Would you fuck a child?"

Allan's eyes widened in shock. "No! You sick bastard!" The fingers squeezed gently and he forgot indignation as his body arched.

"A horse?"

Allan paused for a moment, contemplating logistics. "I don't think I could."

"Goat, then" Allan grimaced. Was it possible for your cock to actually explode? "Probably. Have you got a goat?"

"Not with me." Guy stopped for a moment, apparently listening, then smiled widely. "Another man. For me to watch."

Allan nodded. His groin ached horribly. "Can we just do something? Please?"

"I think that can be arranged." Guy had turned; Allan followed his gaze to the man topping the rise. Who saw them and turned round, fast. Guy was after him, sprinting up the hill, sword in hand, impressively fast. He marched the man down again.

A tinker, judging from the stuff hanging off the mule. Middle aged, scruffy. Not worth the arrows, Robin would say, unless Much needed new pans. Allan watched the mule speculatively. They kicked like hell.

Gisborne was talking to the mule's owner. One hand showed silver, the other still held his sword. The tinker was watching both. Eventually he nodded and Guy flicked a silver piece into his hand. The man plodded over to the fallen tree that Gisborne indicated, not looking once at the naked, bound and erect Allan.

Allan watched in dismay as the man unlaced and dropped his breeches. "Fuck off, Gisborne! No!"

"A minute ago you were all in favour of the idea." Gisborne pointed out. "Don't disappoint me now." His voice had dropped, was dangerous. Allan shuddered. The man had bent over the log and Allan looked at creased buttocks and none too clean arse with distaste. "Not being funny here, but I don't think I can." His cock was softening.

Guy rummaged in his pack, walked back to Allan and dragged him by the shoulder to stand behind the man. Allan closed his eyes in despair. A sweet smell hit him and an oiled hand was on his cock, rubbing up and down. He took a breath, hard again, and prayed silently. Come now, please. End this. He caught his breath, pushed against the bunched bare fingers around the top of his cock, and again, and again, harder. Yes, he was going to come...

The fingers slid aside for his next thrust and something replaced them, something hard and tight. He looked down; he was an inch inside the man's anus. Guy's other gloved hand was tight around the base of his cock, stopping him from pulling away.

Gisborne's voice was in his ear, short on breath. "Go on, outlaw. Fuck the man. Do it hard." Guy's mouth found his, tongue running across his battered throat, then pulled away long enough to urge him again.

"You're going to come in him, you double dealing bastard. And I'm going to watch you do it."

It felt...interesting. If you didn't think too hard. Allan pushed gently, and when nothing happened, harder. He slipped another inch inside and the man groaned.

"He doesn't want to," Allan said, suddenly guilty.

"He's getting well paid. Like you. Finish the damn job." Gisborne was impatient.

The pressure on the tip of his cock was exquisitely painful. Guy's hands were tight on his hips, pushing. Allan jerked forwards. Bloody hell! He could do with his hands, but they were still tied. He braced his knees, thrust forward, forced himself properly inside and started to move back and forward against the constriction, barely conscious of the noises from under him. Rough leather rubbed hard against his back, matching his rhythm.

Gisborne's voice was in his ear, bitter, amused. "If Hood could see you now. " Allan didn't have breath to reply. He was coming at last, with a whimper of release.

Evenutally he pulled out of the still body underneath him. The man grabbed silver and ran. Allan sank to his knees, disgust overwhelming him. He'd not looked once into the man's face.

Gisborne hunkered down in front of him, tipped his head up.

"You really are on the verge of tears, aren't you? " Delight in his voice. "I'm going to have fun with you next time."

"No next time," Allan said, sullenly. "I won't do this again."

"You will." Guy's voice was serious. "You'll tell yourself that you do it for the money, but you won't be able to help it. You were hard, Allan, the moment I touched you. You wanted this, all of it."

Guy stood up, dropped a purse in front of Allan. It came open and silver glinted. "Same time next week."

Allan waited until the horse was out of sight before he began the arduous process of freeing his hands. Next time. He shuddered. He could say no. The coins had spilt out onto the grass in front of him. A lot of money; more than he got for betraying his friends. But next time...he didn't know what it would be like.

The quiet voice inside that told him truths he didn't listen to was talking now. Next time, it told him, would be like this time. But even better. He got his hands free at last, dressed, scooped up the silver and headed back to camp. He'd do it again, next week, he knew. For the money.


	2. Giving It Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He wasn't under any illusion that he was getting paid for the good stuff"

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[allan/guy](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/allan/guy), [rh](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/rh)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Giving It Back (Allan/Guy) NC-17** _

Title: Giving It Back  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Allan/Guy  
Rating: NC 17.   
Word Count: 1500  
Summary: "He wasn't under any illusion that he was getting paid for the good stuff"  
Notes/Warnings: READ THE WARNINGS More twisted explicit slash porn, with strong language. A sequel to "For the Money" because people incautiously left feedback. See what you're responsible for? Actually this pair are growing on me so I might write some more even if everyone hates it...

 

Allan had arrived at the clearing first and was sitting on the fallen log where he'd fucked the tinker the week before. He still wasn't at all sure what to think about that, though he'd been thinking about nothing else pretty much all week. The only conclusion that he'd reached was that if Gisborne wanted to do more of that sort of shit, well, he'd better pay well, that was all. Allan was half hoping that Gisborne did, because he suspected that the pickings from being a spy would be particularly poor this week. If Robin was planning anything big he was keeping it to himself. Gisborne wouldn't pay Allan for hints and suppositions.

Hoofbeats, and Allan looked up. Gisborne swung off the black horse and left it to graze. Gisborne's horses were always well trained, a comparison that Allan didn't much like thinking about. This was a business relationship, that was all. He stood up and walked towards his leather clad business associate. Guy was smiling; that was probably bad. Or good. Significant, anyway.

Gisborne came to meet him. A hand cupped his chin and a now expressionless Guy considered his face. Allan felt appallingly self conscious. Looks like shit is on, he thought, slightly panicked, slightly aroused.

Guy stepped back. "Take your clothes off."

Allan just stopped his fingers going to his laces. "What about the money?" He was impressed that his voice sounded steady.

Gisborne raised an eyebrow. "The money." A small bag was tossed onto the grass behind Allan. "Satisfied?"

Allan didn't really know, not till he'd looked in it. Could be coppers in there. Still, it was generous last time. He suspected that Gisborne wouldn't appreciate his stopping to count. He started to pull his clothes off, trying to think about what he'd do with the silver and not about what Gisborne intended to do with him. The man's gaze promised something darker and hotter than Allan could imagine. By the time Allan was naked he was half hard already.

Gisborne wasn't undressing. That was a bit odd. Allan glanced up and down the road but there was no sign of anyone else. Hell, the man had paid. Allan would just do what he was told. At least there wasn't a goat.

Gisborne stepped up to him, slid a hand down his stomach into black pubic hair, circled the base of his instantly hard cock and slid under his balls, squeezing firmly. The other hand was circling his nipples, tweaking, smoothing, then nails raking. Allan's breathing quickened. He looked over Guy's shoulder at the empty road. He wasn't under any illusion that he was getting paid for the good stuff.

Sure enough, Gisborne stepped away all too soon. He gestured to the log.

"Go on, outlaw. You know what to do."

Allan remembered the noises of protest, of discomfort from the man that he'd screwed last week. He didn't fancy that very much. Still, silver was silver. The man had been able to run away well enough at the end. It couldn't hurt a lot. He glanced back at the purse for reassurance, and bent over, resting his elbows on the old wood and fixing his gaze on a clump of foxgloves a few feet in front of him. He could feel Guy behind him, pushing his knees apart. For all his trepidation, he was still rock hard.

The sweet smell of oil. He wished momentarily that their positions were reversed. Maybe Gisborne would make him do that again, sometime. Allan imagined his cock sliding into someone's arse; Guy's maybe. He moved his hips slightly and the man behind him laughed.

"God, you're eager, aren't you?" Scorn and amusement. Allan stilled, kept quiet. Silver, for this, and it would be over soon.

Something pushed past the entrance to his arse. He clenched instinctively, realised it was much smaller than he'd anticipated; a finger, maybe. He forced himself to relax.

"Good." The voice behind him was calm, approving. The finger moved deeper and he suddenly twitched in pleasure. Sure enough, as soon as it felt good the finger pulled out again.

There was a pause, then two fingers, some discomfort, but still he pushed back onto them, trying to find that spot again. There; he gasped. This time Gisborne let him feel the pulse of pleasure two, three times before pulling back. What the hell was that? And how the fuck was he going to get Guy to do it again?

An oiled hand pushed between Allan's legs, ran past his tight balls onto his hard cock. Desperately greedy, he wanted both and Gisborne obliged, fingers up his arse, fingers round his cock, both moving and he was panting, and then suddenly bereft again as the man pulled away too soon.

The pause this time was far too long and he made a small noise of protest, looked over his shoulder at Guy dropping his own breeches, cock red and hard. That's what he wanted; he knew now, and it was sliding up and down between his buttocks in the oil so that its tip ducked a little each time into the entrance to his arse, and he was pushing backwards, trying to impale himself on the slippery length and failing.

Then Guy stopped, one hand wrapped high up around his own cock so the Allan could push himself no more than a half inch onto the shaft, other hand between Allan's legs, cupping his balls.

"Want me to do this?" How could his voice be so calm? Why was he asking Allan? He'd not asked last time. Allan swore at himself. Who cared why? Just answer.

"Gods, yes!" Allan wanted that hot, thick shaft up his arse more than he could remember wanting anything. He knew it was going to hurt and that was all part of the wanting. It was going to be incredible. Why the fuck had no-one told him about this before?

"It will cost you." Amusement in his tormentor's voice.

Fuck. He needed that silver. Still, he needed this more. "I'll give it back."

"Go and get it." Guy stood back. Allan was so hard that he could barely walk. He staggered over to the purse, returned.

"Count it out." Guy's cock was fucking hard too. How could he play these games? Allan tipped the purse into his hand, swore at the unexpected glint of gold.

There was no way that Guy of Gisborne would ever let him leave this clearing with gold. It was just part of the game. Still, it was agonising to tip the coins back into the purse, hand it over. Gold in his hand, or release from the desperation of desire. Allan really wasn't sure which was better.

He bent over the log again, eagerly. The right hand moved between his thighs, round his cock, squeezing gently up and down the length of the shaft. Guy's cock was guided into the entrance of his arse and pushed in, a little at a time. It hurt, but not as much as he'd anticipated, and he wanted more, deeper, and Gisborne gave it to him, right hand still moving on the base of his cock, then around his balls, then back to his pulsating cock. When both movements suddenly stopped he groaned aloud. What did the sodding bastard want now?

"From now on" The voice was thick with arousal, but the words were clear, "You're not going to have a copper from me, little turncoat. Next week you are going to bring me information, and if it's good enough, and if I'm in the mood, I will fuck you up the arse, or anywhere else I choose, as a reward. And you will thank me for it. Understand?"

Allan understood all too well. "Yes."

"So thank me."

Pride had no place left in among the more primal sensations. "Thank you." There were tears in his eyes, frustration, desperation, need.

Guy was moving again, thrusting hard, jerking Allan's cock, and Allan came just before the man on top. He stayed over the log, waiting for his senses to return and his breathing to steady. By the time he looked round Guy had gone.

Bloody hell. How had things come to this? If he understood thing right, he was now meant to betray his friends in order to persuade Gisborne to fuck him. Sod that. This relationship was going to be bloody well renegotiated to include some money for him somewhere along the line. There were things that Guy wanted more than him- he remembered the violent, desperate thrusts down his throat. Allan was a born trader; he'd come out on top, one way or another.

Allan stood up, dressed shakily. Robin had better bloody well plan something good. He wasn't having Gisborne telling him that his information wasn't good enough. Missing out on money was one thing, but he damn well wasn't going to miss out on this next week. And there would be a next week. He grinned. Despite the absence of the expected purse in his jerkin he was whistling as he headed home.


	3. Earning His Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever we do, I'm in charge"

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[allan/guy](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/allan/guy), [rh](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/rh)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Fic: Earning His Keep (Allan/Guy )NC-17** _

Title: Earning His Keep  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Allan/Guy  
Rating: NC 17.   
Word Count: 1800  
Summary: "Whatever we do, I'm in charge"  
Notes/Warnings: READ THE WARNINGS More twisted explicit slash porn, with strong language. A sequel to "For the Money" and "Giving it Back".

Guy of Gisborne, master of Locksley Manor, chief lieutenant to the Sheriff of Nottingham, was riding out to a secluded forest glade where he intended to engaged in perverted sex with an outlawed peasant. He couldn't wait. It had been painful to delay his departure long enough to ensure he'd be late. Even more difficult to pull Judas up for the last half mile, to arrive at a leisurely canter.

It had been little more than a whim, a fortnight ago. He'd not had another man in months and was bored with the available women. The one he wanted would be available some day, and would be everything that his nightly fantasies suggested. But for now, he needed more than fantasy, or spiritless serving girls. The renegade outlaw's silence could at least be assured, as could his tolerance of a bit of rough treatment.

Finding that Allan's response was rather stronger than tolerance was a pleasant surprise. His mix of guilt, desperation and lust was priceless and fantasies of Marion had to take second place for a few days after that.

Last week Guy had come with plans, and they'd worked out beautifully. He'd actually managed to persuade the man that Guy was doing him a favour as he fucked him. Guy smiled, remembering the dual feeling of power and satisfaction. The turncoat should be ready to do absolutely anything by now, and Guy intended to take full advantage. His cock was already uncomfortably hard against the saddle bow as he cantered into the clearing.

Guy looked down at Allan, finding it easy to show disdain when it came to this man. He was positively grubby as well as unprincipled. First things first. "You've got news for me." Betray your friends. How the man could live with what he was doing, Guy really couldn't imagine.

Allan looked up, clearly apprehensive. "They're planning to work along the North Road this week. That's all I know."

"That's all?" Guy pulled the horse round in a tight circle, and Allan turned to face him again. "No targets? No times? Just that?" Judas had picked up on his tense mood, was restless. Guy's hands settled the animal, consciously transmitting a calm he didn't feel.

Allan shrugged. "I'm sorry, but that's all I've got."

"Not enough." Guy pulled Judas's head round towards the path back to Nottingham. Come on, boy, offer me something... He didn't know that he could face riding off, lust unfulfilled, but he wasn't going to lose his advantage, not now. Come on, you want this, he muttered silently as he let the horse walk away. Give me something.

"Look, Guy," Here it came. Gisborne checked the horse as if irresolute.

"I'm sure we could work something out." The outlaw's voice was wheedling. Guy stifled a yawn that hid a smile. "I mean, what do you want?"

"I want better information." Don't overplay it. "But since you seem incapable of that this afternoon you'd better take your clothes off and I'll see if anything else comes to mind."

He loved seeing the man strip. Allan might not wash too often but he had a bloody good body; wide chest, tight arse (and after last week Guy knew just how tight), black hair across his stomach and down to a cock so hard that Guy ached to touch it. Guy watched behind half closed eyelids, as if bored. His fingers tightened on the reins and Judas threw his head up, tense again. There was no way that he would be returning to Nottingham without some of that this afternoon.

The outlaw was clearly of the same mind, "Bloody hell, Guy, what do you want? I'll do anything, you know that." Guy did. He smiled, slid off the saddle, reached inside his doublet.

"Hands behind your back." He tied Allan's wrists with the thin leather strips, uncomfortably tight, put a loop around his ankles for good measure. A kick to the back of his knees had the man falling down onto them. Guy walked round to the front of the kneeling man, looked down into worried eyes.

"Two weeks ago you were quite crap at this. Let's see if you'd improved." Guy unlaced his breeches, released his aching cock. This time instead of thrusting it into the waiting mouth he let Allan bend over it, take the tip gently into his mouth, then run his tongue around the whole thing, licking and sucking enthusiastically. Guy sighed, relaxed. God, this was good.

As his climax built he wanted more; he plunged his hands into the black hair, pulled Allan's head onto his cock and thrust hard, careless of the gagging noises and the struggles of protest.

"I'm going to come down your fucking throat, dirty little animal." It was meant to be a whisper. came out as more of a half scream as he came in long spurts of sheer pleasure. The man's head was still pressed against his groin as his breathing slowed. Time to exert some power again. He frowned down at Allan.

"You had better fucking swallow that before I let you go."

Small movements, then Allan looked up, nodded slightly. Guy released him and the man shuffled back a little; no spitting or vomiting this time. Guy felt a twinge of satisfaction. This one was breaking in nicely. He pulled his breeches up, made a movement towards the horse.

Allan was protesting, still tied but looking distinctly unbroken. "What about my payment?"

Damn, there was that. Guy was tempted to just ride off but Allan wasn't fully housetrained yet. If he thought he was being cheated he might just not come back.

"So, how do you want it?" From past experience he knew that it was going to be a good half hour before he would be hard enough to fuck the man, but he supposed he could find ways for Allan to be entertaining until then.

Allan closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "Let me fuck you. Please."

Guy's spent cock twitched at the idea. A polite enough request and it sounded good to him, but he wasn't going to relinquish control.

"Lie down, then, face up." The man's hands were already tied- good. Guy dropped his breeches again, settled down onto Allan's hard stomach, ran a hand lightly over muscled chest, He dipped his head and forced the other man's mouth open, running his tongue over the last remnants of his own come, ignoring Allan's attempts to kiss him back. Then he slid back onto Allan's thighs and slowly anointed the wide hard cock with oil, taking pleasure in the heat under his hands, feeling Allan shudder beneath him. Not yet, peasant boy, he thought. That's mine. Rising up on his knees he shifted forwards and lowered himself very gently onto the upright cock, a hand behind him to guide it in. His eyes never left Allan's. I'm in charge, outlaw. Whatever we do, I'm in charge. Get that?

Allan bucked, pushing upwards, and Guy let him, braced against him so the thrust went deeper. Guy bit back a gasp. His own erection was near hard again- he cursed himself. If he'd waited half an hour he'd have come again. As it was this was fucking good anyway. His nails dug into Allan's shoulders, then raked over his nipples, hard enough to draw blood. Beneath him Allan's eyes had defocussed as he found a rhythm; Guy let him move as he willed, revelling in the sensation inside him and the barely noticed damage his nails were inflicting.. All too soon Allan's breath grew shorter, then with one final thrust he was still and quivering, before he carefully pulled himself downwards and out.

Guy stood up, nowhere near satisfied. He could feel the man's seed trickling down his leg. He turned to watch Allan fruitlessly struggling to get his hands free.

Now, should he let the outlaw go or hold onto him for a bit? Watching naked limbs wriggling he had a sudden picture of Allan in his bedchamber, couldn't get it out of his mind. That decided him. The man could work a little harder, that was all.

"Want me to release you?"

Allan looked up at him, nodded. His chest was marked with red lines, one nipple bleeding. Nothing brash about the man today.

"On your knees then." Guy slid his half hard cock into his own hand. "As soon as I come again, you can go."There was the slightest of sags in Allan's shoulders. Good. Wouldn't do to have him enjoying himself too much. Still, he didn't argue and he leaned forward willingly enough to run his tongue again around the dark hood. Guy felt himself hardening again.

This time he let Allan work for a long time, as he stood, legs apart, hands buried in the man's hair, elaborating on his earlier thought. The man naked save for a leather collar and a slender iron chain to wrap around his own hand or around the bedpost as he desired. Guy's breath quickened at the thought and Allan responded by sucking harder, tongue busy. The man was still a little clumsy, but at least he had some idea of what he should be doing. Curious, Guy asked. "Have you done this before?"

Allam pulled his head away long enough to answer. "From this end, no." Gratifyingly, he was straight back to his task. Guy smiled. The man really was quite smart. And, damn, pretty good. He could feel the man adjusting as he shifted, as his breathing quickened. He looked down at the back of the man's head, that curled black hair. There were things that he could do with a collar and chain. He closed his eyes, suddenly near ejaculation, ran a tongue over his own lips, started to move his hips.

Second time around the urge wasn't so strong. Guy let the kneeling man suck him to a shuddered conclusion. Allan didn't pull away, hesitated only a second as Guy came, then swallowed, running his tongue gently over the softening cock. Learns fast, this one, Guy thought. Very good. Guy felt almost benign.

Reluctantly Guy severed the ropes, let the man dress. He relaced his breeches, tossed a couple of silver pieces on the grass. He'd said he wouldn't pay the man, but it did no harm for Allan to know that good service would be rewarded. Besides, he was about to tell the man to do something rather more.

"Next time," he said, casually, "will be Friday. Come to Locksley."

Allan looked apprehensive. "What shall I tell your guard?"

"Nothing, Don't let anyone see you. Wait in my bedchamber- if you don't know where that is ask Robin. It was his not long ago." Guy smiled, remembering victories. "Be there when I retire after supper. Don't expect to be leaving before dawn."

Guy whistled for the horse, mounted, aching slightly. "He looked back at the scruffy outlaw, at the half eager, half appalled realisation on his face, the blood trickling dow his chest. "Friday, Locksley. Next time I want more." Then he turned away before Allan could see the grin on his face. Fuck, yes he wanted more. He was going to get it too. He flicked the horse into a canter, leaving Allan behind.


	4. Staying the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He was not, after all, an unwilling serving maid"

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[allan/guy](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/allan/guy), [robin hood](http://unsentimentalf.livejournal.com/tag/robin+hood)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Fic: Staying The Night (Allan/Guy) NC-17** _

Title: Staying the Night  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Allan/Guy  
Rating: NC 17.   
Word Count: 4000  
Summary: "He was not, after all, an unwilling serving maid"  
Notes/Warnings: READ THE WARNINGS More twisted explicit slash porn, with strong language. A sequel to "For the Money", "Giving it Back" and "Earning His Keep".   
The final instalment. I've had great fun writing it. Thanks for everyone's feedback; it wouldn't exist without you.

Allan hauled himself over the sill of the unshuttered window and collapsed on the wooden floor of Guy of Gisborne's bedchamber. Not an easy climb, that. And Guy hadn't seen fit to reduce the guards around the estate for the benefit of his expected visitor. He was still sitting on the floor, recovering his breath, when the door opened.

Too late to fling himself back out through the window and the ten foot drop. No time to scramble under the bed. Allan climbed to his feet and hoped that it was Guy.

It wasn't. It was a youngish woman carrying a tray with a wine bottle and two rather nice silver goblets. Allan dragged his gaze away from the silver to her face. Not exactly pretty; her hair hung badly and her clothes were rather grubby and poorly mended. Still, he smiled with what he hoped was winning charm. "Good evening."

She didn't exactly smile back, but she wasn't frowning either. "Thief or guest?" she enquired, with no sign of alarm.

"Both," Allan replied, honestly, then decided that he'd better qualify. "He's expecting me."

"Ah." Now she did smile, and she was pretty after all. "You're not quite what we expected." Her eyes slid to the four poster bed. "We were expecting a woman, for a start. And younger."

"Sorry." Allan wasn't quite sure what to make of this conversation. Had Guy told the staff he was coming?

"Don't apologise! " She half laughed. "We're grateful, believe me. A month now?" He nodded. It must be, he supposed. What had Guy told his servants?

"Four weeks he's been leaving us alone." She grimaced. "We owe you." She placed the tray on the table at one end of the room.

"Oh." Allan was beginning to get the message. The woman frowned. "You are doing this from choice, I suppose? I didn't mean to gloat, if he's making you..."

Allan didn't really want to let this young woman know just why he chose to be in Guy's bedchamber. "He pays well."

"Yes. He does that." The woman frowned. "But after a while you realise that whatever he pays isn't enough." She turned to leave. "Best not to say I saw you. Mind the wine- it's very strong."

"Thanks."

At the door she paused, then turned back.

"God knows I shouldn't tell you this. But we have a saying here, now. Anonymous, bored, clumsy, dirty. In case one day the money doesn't seem to be enough. He's quite fastidious, in his way."

Allan nodded, understanding. He wasn't sure it would work for him, but she meant well. "Thank you." She closed the door quietly behind her.

Slightly unsettled by the conversation, Allan looked around the room. Guy's sword and scabbard by the door; he entertained a brief fantasy of heroism, decided it wasn't why he came. A desk, locked. The wine on the table. The large curtained bed; he smiled, imagining. Maybe this was a good idea after all. He was not, after all, an unwilling serving maid. On the bed, a locked wooden box, just light enough to lift with one hand. It chinked satisfyingly when Allan shook it. Guy wouldn't miss a few coins.... He took out the pin that went everywhere with him and set to work on the lock.

It was a stiff lock, and difficult. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, box in his lap, head bowed over the lock, too intent to hear the door open, but when it slammed close he startled.

"I expected no better from a thief. Except, perhaps, competence." Guy's voice was a drawl, no trace of annoyance. For the second time that evening Allan found himself with nowhere to hide. Resigned, he dropped the pick into Guy's outstretched hand, watched the man walk to the window and drop it.

"All well down there?" Guy called, softly. "Yes, my Lord," two voices replied. Guy turned back to Allan, his voice cold.

"There are guards either end of the corridor as well. Just in case you were thinking of leaving early."

Now that Guy was here, all leather and dark promise, Allan was feeling the now familiar mixture of arousal and unease. Being trapped wasn't helping. He handed Guy the box, feeling at a disadvantage already.

Guy shook the box, lips curling at the clink. "If you want this, you're going to have to work for it."

"I can do that." Allan felt suddenly brash. He'd done all this before, liked it, pretty much. Why should he be intimidated?

"Good." Guy started to strip off his jacket, undergarment. "I pulled a shoulder muscle a couple of days ago. You can rub it down for me." He passes a vial to Allan, the familiar smell triggering arousal as Allan opened it. Guy lay face down on the bed, waiting.

Fine. Allan poured a few drops onto his hands, started at the line of Guy's breeches, smoothing the oil upwards. The feel of the smooth skin, the taut muscles was making him heady with arousal; he forced himself to concentrate, dug his knuckles into the muscles, felt the man under him grunt. Bolder, he swung a knee over to sit on clothed thighs. His hands continued to circle as he bent over, breathing the sweet scent, then ran his tongue across the dark nape of hair. The grunt this time was definitely encouraging; he closed his teeth around skin on the bare neck, bit down hard.

The body beneath his convulsed, then relaxed. Allan sat up, carried on kneading the glistening muscles.

"Enough!" Allan swung his leg over to sit on the edge of the bed. Guy rolled over, smiling.

"Use your teeth on me, will you? It's definitely time that box was opened. Take off your clothes."

Guy watched as intently as usual, but Allan had found confidence at last. Now he knew what Guy liked; he could control this encounter, get what he wanted and money besides. He took pleasure in stretching upwards to remove his shirt, then bending low for his boots and hose. Guy wanted him, and that meant power. The coins in that box were his. He was grinning at Guy as he pulled his breeches down, his erection released to stand nearly close to his stomach.

Guy was smiling back. This time he unlaced his own boots, pulled them off then stripped naked, sprawled face up on the bed. Allan caught a breath. Gods, that was a sight. Blood pulsed through his cock. He leaned over to stroke the inside of a white thigh and Guy parted his legs, let the hand slide up to his balls. His own hand reciprocated and Allan gasped. No perversion this time. Surely they could just fuck each other? It's what they both wanted, clear enough.

Guy pulled his hand away. "No hurry. There's wine on the table." Allan sighed a little, stood and walked to pour it out. As he turned back with the goblets he saw Guy's expression- the man was watching his arse and he looked hungry. Allan passed a goblet over and Guy propped himself up on one elbow to drink.

It was good wine; Allan was grateful for the earlier warning. He sipped it cautiously, then drank a little faster. No harm in being a little drunk this evening. Guy had finished his wine, dropped the goblet onto the bed, next to the box. Allan had nearly forgotten about the money. He drained his glass, glanced up at Guy's face.

"The box, now?"

"Greedy little fox." Guy sounded almost fond. He pulled his discarded doublet towards himself, found a key in pocket. "Open it, then" He tossed the key to Allan.

This was Christmas. Allan slid a grateful hand up Guy's leg, then lifted the box onto his knee. The lock was still a little stiff but the key turned. He lifted the lid, and paused, confused.

Not coins. The links of an iron chain had clinked deceptively. Allan plunged his hand into the box, pulled the chain out. Something came with it; something leather. He twisted it in his hand. A dog collar, buckled, with the chain attached. Not a heavy chain, but well made, sufficient to hold a large dog. Or, he finally realised, a man.

"No!" He'd been played. Still was being played. Guy was grinning at him, utterly delighted by his reaction. "Come now, Allan. It's what you said you wanted."

"Fucking no." He'd stood up, backed off from the chain, from the bed. Nowhere to run; he remembered the guards. Still, Guy couldn't overpower him; he thought of the sword, glanced towards the door. Gone.

"Looking for this?" Guy had leaned over to the other side of the bed, came back up with the naked blade. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stood up to face Allan. Allan shook his head slightly. This was ridiculous; they were both naked and the man was threatening him with a sword. He turned slightly, looking for some advantage; all he could see was the wine on the tray. Maybe he could get so drunk that he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

The sword tip was closer, and low. He would have preferred it if the blade had been nearer his throat. Resigned, he lifted his hands. "No need for this, Guy."

"So put it on." Guy's free hand scooped up the chain, tossed it at him. Allan caught it awkwardly, stood for a moment.

"Put it on." The sword tip sliced through the air a bare inch from his softened cock.

Allan pulled at the stiff buckle. The leather was new, harsh. The collar was studded with short iron studs, of the sort used to protect the dogs' necks when they fought. The chain was looped through a fastening. There was nothing to stop Allan from unbuckling the damn thing again later; nothing except the insane man with a sword who was forcing him to put the fucking thing on in the first place.

He got the buckle undone, looked down at the length of leather in his hand. When he brought it up to his neck he found to his embarrassment that his hands were shaking too badly to lace the leather through the buckle. Guy watched him struggle for a while, then shook his head. "Give it to me, then get on your knees, turn round."

Allan felt the leather around his throat, the scrape of the new cut edges, Guy's fingers warm around the back of his neck. "Not that tight, for fuck's sake!" The pressure eased slightly. He brought his fingers up, could slide two under the collar, no more. He wouldn't suffocate but it wasn't comfortable.

Guy let him finger the collar, the buckle, the chain, then yanked on it hard. The leather cut into tender skin and Allan yelped.

"Enough. Put a hand near it again and I'll beat you bloody." Iron smacked into Allan's buttock; the loose end of the chain. Allan dropped his hands to his sides. To his bemusement he found himself hard again. He shuffled round on his knees to face his tormentor.

Guy had the chain wrapped around one hand, a foot or so dangling free. His grin was predatory.

"Not what you expected?" His hand jerked backwards and Allan fell forwards, onto his hands and knees. He thought his neck might be bleeding, dared not lift a hand to check. He couldn't think of any reply that wouldn't get him further into trouble.

"Well?" Another yank. Apparently silence wouldn't do either. "No." he said, miserably.

"You come here, thinking you can steal from me, thinking that you can get me to pay you, thinking that you can just walk in here and out as you please. Know better now, don't you?"

"Yes."

"So, we've got all night." Guy picket up the discarded goblets and headed over to the wine on the table, Allan shuffling to keep up. As Guy turned his back to pour out the wine, Allan surreptitiously  
lifted a finger to his sore neck. No blood, yet.

Guy turned back, handed the wine to Allan. "Drink that." He drained his own glass in a single draught. Allan took a few frantic gulps. He could feel his head swimming.

So this amused Guy, that was all. And there was no money. That wasn't so bad; he hadn't thought there would be money until he saw that damn box. What difference did it make to fucking whether he had a collar around his neck or not? Let Guy have his game; it meant nothing. Allan started to relax.

A jerk on the chain, upwards. Allan obediently stood. Guy stretched out his hand, grabbed the collar at the point where it met the chain and pulled the other man towards him. Mouth met mouth, Guy's tongue down his throat for long seconds, then he was pushed heavily away. Guy's eyes seemed to have lost some of their focus.

"I'm going to fuck you now, you son of a bitch. Like the dog you are." He yanked on the chain again and Allan stood close. "Get the fuck over that bed."

Allan felt a spike of excitement. This was what he'd come for, chain or no chain. He bent over the high bed, arms stretched to his sides. Guy seemed to have lost his vial; fingers probed awkwardly and Allan shifted back to accommodate them. They were withdrawn. "Turn over."

Allan lay face up, Guy's naked body was clambering clumsily over him; this sort of clumsy, he though, wouldn't discourage anyone. Guy' s cock was pushed hard into his mouth. "Lick that." He complied. His face was ground into Guy's hard stomach as the man moved.

The weight lifted off him. A hand on his shoulder hauled him back over and the spit-lubricated cock forced its way slowly and painfully into his arse. Allan didn't care about the pain, not this sort. One of his hands was moving on his own cock, harder and harder as the pressure built. His hands were pulled to the sides; he groaned. Guy was in now, pausing for long moments. Allan's tongue was lolling, waiting for the man to thrust.

One hand between his bare shoulderblades, pressing him down into the bed. Pressure on the collar, backwards, pulling him the other way. It was slightly uncomfortable, Allan barely noticed in the anticipation.

Guy's hips slammed forward, and the chain jerked back, choking Allan. He struggled helplessly for breath. Then Guy pulled back, let go and Allan snatched a breath. Fuck. That was.. he wasn't sure what it was but then Guy did it again, cock hard inside him, collar closing tight around his neck. And again. He was barely snatching the breath he needed, getting closer and closer to passing out, and he thought that he was going to explode. Guy had to stop, had to, but he had no breath to plead. He was suffocating, he was dying...he was coming, harder than he'd imagined possible, spurt after spurt into the bedcover under him, fighting for the little air that he could manage, and Guy wasn't letting up, was going on and on until Allan did pass out.

He came to, still face down on the bed. He looked round cautiously, his head throbbing, his skin chilled. Gods, Guy was drinking yet more wine! Allan looked round desperately, grabbed the wooden box still next to the bed and threw up into it, mainly sour wine. When he lifted his head he felt rather better. Guy was wrinkling a nose. "Fuck, peasant boy. What the hell is wrong with your stomach?" He picked up the box, opened the door and put it outside, came back in and unwrapped the chain from the bedpost. Allan was crouching by the bed. His neck hurt, his arse hurt, his head hurt and he just wanted to be left alone for a bit.

Faint chance. A light tug was sufficient to make Allan wince; the sharp leather must have rubbed his neck raw. What did Guy want now, he thought dully. Both men were surely spent.

"You look half dead" Observation, not sympathy. Allan shuffled carefully to the indicated space in front of Guy, now sitting on the bed.

"Time for some sleep." Guy pulled a strip of thin leather from under the pillow. He stood up, moved behind Allan and knelt down. "Hands."

"For God's sake!" Allan protested, through a throat agonisingly sore. "There's no need for this."

"I'm not staying awake to make sure you do what you're told. So put your hands behind your back."

Helpless to do anything else, Allan complied. It was getting seriously cold in the room now. Guy tied the chain around the post at the foot of the bed, tossed a blanket over the bound man still kneeling on the wooden floor. "Don't get too comfortable. I've got more planned for you yet."

Allan listened to the steady breathing of the man on the bed. The blanket had fallen down and he was unable to pull it up around himself again, It was too cold to sleep. Fucking hell, what was this all about, then? He could have died. Still, he'd never come like that before. That damn collar.

He must have dozed despite the cold, because when he opened his eyes Guy was coming in from the corridor, still naked, with a lit candle. The man lit a fire in the grate, spent some time building it up before turning to Allan. A hand slid over his bare shoulders.

"You're cold." The chain was unwrapped, and Guy cut through the leather at his wrists. Allan threw his head back, hissing, as the blood pounded back through chilled hands,

"Sit by the fire." The blanket went round his shoulders and he clutched at it gratefully. The fire was blazing now, hot against his skin. Guy was watching him again, cock hard. His own twitched in acknowledgement. Something would happen; Allan just hoped it wouldn't hurt the raw skin around his neck this time.

Warmed through at last and sipping the last of the wine, very carefully, he looked up at Guy. "What now?" Might as well get it done. God knows how late it was.

"That's up to you." Guy's lip twisted upwards. "You can have the best fucking blow job of your life- if you're prepared to pay for it."

"Pay?" Allan had no money, not even Guy's.

"Let me show you. Sit on the bed."

Allan complied. Guy knelt in front of him, chain wrapped around one wrist, and settled his head between Allan's thighs. "Like this." His tongue was probing, licking, and Allan gasped, rock hard in an instant. Guy's mouth slid along his cock four, five times then the man pulled away.

"I can stop there. Or you can pay the price for me to continue. See how hard you are, outlaw."

Allan was getting an inkling of what the man was suggesting. Still, he really didn't want the man to stop.

"Go on."

Guy pushed him to the bed, rolled him over . The length of chain hit his arse, hard, but, Allan thought, not as hard as it could be. It still hurt, and by the fifth stroke he was wincing audibly.

"Now we do this again." He sat up and the mouth descended. This time when Guy stopped he knew what to expect, but still he couldn't say no. The chain was harder, snapping over his back, hurting, yet he was no less hard when the mouth enclosed him a third time. He was agonisingly near climax when Guy stopped.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, fuck it. Just do it."

Guy had been pulling his strokes before. This time the pain was appalling. He half screamed, burying his face in the bedspread, grasping handfuls of the material. Three, just two more. Four, Gods it hurt. Just one more. Five and he did scream as the metal dug into his flesh. He could hardly sit upright, but Guy didn't care, pushing him backwards onto the bed, one hand around his balls, the other round the base of his cock, letting him jerk deep into Guy's throat until he came with a scream that was as much pain as pleasure.

Guy stood up, wiping his mouth, looking down at Allan curled up on the bed. "You're tougher than I thought." The compliment barely registered through the burning pain. Allan looked up at the man still holding the chain to his collar. "Bloody hell, Guy. That hurt."

"You had a choice." Guy was unrepentant. "You're not going to get a choice about the next bit."

"Which is?"

"Up against the wall." Allan stood with his face to the wall, as directed. He could feel Guy's hand tracing the path of the cuts and contusions left by the chain. Knees nudged his apart, fingers guided hard cock into his sore arse. Guy's mouth was on his shoulder, pulling at the skin, teeth deep in the muscle. He winced as the man fucked him a second time, slower this time, body pressed against his, making the chain marks throb. He was too spent to get off on it but still, it did feel good, underneath the pain. He didn't mind how long it took, his hands flat against the wall, passive, used.

Finally the teeth let go and he could hear Guy's fast breathing, feel the man thrust faster, harder,and come. Released, he sank to the ground. God, he hurt. There was light coming through the shutters now, very faint.

Guy crouched down next to him, fingers on the leather. It tightened as he pulled the buckle, then came loose and away. Allan put his hands up to his neck, felt the grazes, his hand coming away with faint bloodstains. The chain had left marks but drawn no blood. He felt like he'd been through hell and back. One night. That was all it had been.

The collar and chain lay discarded on the floor. Guy was dressing; he tossed Allan's clothes to him.

"Did you have any information for me?" Allan had forgotten all about the supposed reason for his visit. He nodded. "Do I get paid for it."

"Gods, you've got a nerve. Yes, if it's worth anything."

There were a new set of traps along the forest road; Allan explained where. Guy's men would tear them apart, hopefully not when the outlaws were around. Allan didn't like passing on anything which might get the outlaws killed, especially when he was with them. Guy was sufficiently satisfied to drop a couple of silver pieces at his feet.

Guy unshuttered the window, told the men below to take a break. Allan's boots were laced; he was ready to leave. Heaven knows what he'd tell the others about his injuries; nothing if he could help it.

"Clearing, next week." Guy was cool, now. Allan nodded. There was a lot to be said for simply selling information. He thought of the serving maid. He didn't think that he was ready to drive Guy off, not yet. But he needed to rest, to heal, to decide if this was what he wanted. He'd been wrong when he thought he could stay in control; he knew that now. He'd always be the one underneath, the one in chains. Still, that wasn't always a bad thing; he smiled, then winced as he clambered over the sill. Safely on the ground, he looked up to the window. A figure at the window; Guy watching him leave. Allan resisted the urge to wave. Instead he walked, rather uncomfortably, down the road to the forest.


End file.
